Of Blood and Sakura
by artemis-nz
Summary: Seishirou gets a late night visitor. Seishirou/Subaru.


Seishirou tastes like blood.

"Kiss me, Subaru."

And Subaru does, even as his mind protests feebly against the action, because it _must_ be wrong to love the killer of his sister, and he hates Seishirou so much that he can't possibly like this taste, this feeling, it's just too-

"Like this, Subaru."

And now Seishirou is the one kissing Subaru, because the assassin _knows_ that it's what Subaru really wants, even as the tiny part of his brain still functioning screams at Seishirou to stop, this cannot, will not, be allowed to happen...

"That's right."

And again he kisses, harder this time – not hard enough to leave a mark, because Seishirou has already left those (and the reverse five-pointed star glows on Subaru's hand just briefly) – but hard enough to know that Seishirou _could_ leave a mark, if he was so inclined.

"S-stop... let go..."

Subaru's voice is weak; there is no real will behind it, and Seishirou knows it. It pleases him to know it, and his slight smile, his cold smirk, is smug as he leans forward, and it only grows as Subaru leans forward as well, because he also knows that Subaru's body has betrayed him once again. Beads of sweat form a sheen on his skin. He gasps involuntarily, and shudders at both Seisheiou's touch and at Subaru's own reactions to it.

"No, d-don't... I don't want-"

"Hush, Subaru-kun. We both know that you _do_ want. You want very much. Relax, Subaru..."

Amazingly (somewhere in Subaru's mind registers revulsion, but that's so far away now, so far...), his body does so, almost melting against Seisheiou's caresses. It burns on his skin, hot silk and musk, and Subaru can taste the blood and smell the sakura so strongly that it's intoxicating, overpowering-

"Let go..."

It's only a whisper now, and not even directed to Seishirou anymore.

Like a mantra it runs through his head, over and over – _let go, let go, please let go..._ - and Seishirou is breathing next to his ear, so warm, so soft – _let go..._ - and Seishirou moves his hands up Subaru's chest – _please let go, just let go..._ - and Subaru's body arches to meet him... _- let go, let go... _- and it's all a big blur of sakura and blood and so much sakura that Subaru can't breathe or think or move except when Seishirou touches him just like _that_...

He might have let out a whimper, or it might have been in his own mind, but Seishirou seems to find the situation amusing either way, and Subaru wonders why he cares anymore when something like this felt so good and yet just so-

"Stop..."

It comes out even weaker this time; a ghost-whisper, hardly more than a breath of air, but Seishirou stops anyway, so Subaru releases another whimper – out loud this time – and Seishirou arches one eyebrow inquiringly.

"I thought you told me to stop. You really must make up your mind, Subaru-kun."

Subaru opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, because his enemy and his lover is just sitting there, not touching him, and Subaru hates that.

"Well, Subaru-kun? What's it to be?"

"Don't stop."

He hates himself even more for saying it, but that's what comes out of his mouth, and Seishirou bends down to kiss Subaru again, slowly, carefully, gloatingly. He has won his prize.

Its morning, because the sun shines through the window, and because Subaru feels almost drunk even though he has drunk nothing, and because Seishirou is lying next to him with both eyes open and naked and looking entirely satisfied with himself, and because Subaru can't quite believe what he has done.

"I... you... how could you..." The words are frozen, incredulous stutters.

"How could _I_?"

Subaru thinks Seishirou might enjoy this part even more than what occurred in those hours of the terrible half-moon present last night which made the assassin's skin gleam silver-

"You... you _raped_ me!"

Subaru's tone of voice is that of a child's who has been unfairly punished, so filled with a kind of hurt disbelief.

Seishirou only smirks again, running his eyes down his lover's body, as naked as his own, and Subaru thinks he might be sick. He runs to the bathroom and falls over the bowl of the toilet, gagging and retching. Nothing comes up except spit and unforgiving, acidic bile.

Seishirou is in the exact same position that he was in when Subaru left the room, the sheets not quite covering him. He is beautiful. Subaru curses himself for looking, and jerks on his clothing in a silent rush. He'll be sick again, or faint, or _something_, unless he leaves this minute. Finished dressing, he doesn't look again at the man still lazing in bed who has been watching him all the while.

"Consider this, Subaru-kun", says Seishirou, just as Subaru is about to leave. And now he doesn't even look at Subaru as he speaks, and somehow Subaru hates this most of all, because it means he's no longer important-

"It's only rape if you don't want it."

Subaru escapes, out the door and back to reality, where things are logical and where he doesn't voluntarily make late-night visits to murderers. But inside the apartment, Seishirou catches a whiff of sakura on the air and is already anticipating the next time. He stretches under the sheets languidly, the sheets that smell of sweat and other things, and licks his lips.

They taste a little bit like blood.


End file.
